Green Bottle
by LadyWoot
Summary: Tom Riddle sits by the fire, enjoying a bottle of vodka, but his designs are unknown as he offers Harry a glass. More yaoi than I should be capable of when sober. Rated M for More Vodka!


A/N- I've never written _real _smut before, so naturally the whole thing _had _to be alcohol-induced. _My_ vodka was taken away, but Iceberg wasn't all that good a brand anyway. However, I made do with Minute Maid lemonade mixed with Monster™ panax ginseng. It did its job, and this is the result. Drinking problem? All in a day's work, I think, however I would not recommend my lifestyle. I'm now running on fumes. Stay in school, kids; all that stuff.

**S.S. Sssssss** **Christmas Wish-Granting thingy: **To my most beloved **Irish Hufflepuff**who can't take his Tom without a little vodka and firelight. Merry Christmas!

-_**Green Bottle-**_

"_And softer than shadow and quicker than flies  
his arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes  
'Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy  
don't struggle like that or I will only love you more'  
for it's much too late to get away or turn on the light  
the spiderman is having you for dinner tonight"_

"_Lullaby" –The Cure._

The deep green bottle dripped with beads of condensation and Harry watched in silent awe as a stray droplet of liquid slipped from the bottle's tip down a crème-coloured chin.

Drip.

Tom pulled the bottle languidly from his lips, his fingertips catching at the liquid his mouth couldn't capacitate. The stray drop was wiped away as immaculate white fingers brushed over the liquid discreetly. He paused for only a moment before lifting the bottle to his lips once more

Harry only watched, his back to the fireplace, the heat pressing on his nape, sending mad tremors up and down his spine. He wasn't so sure it was the fire.

"Thirsty, boy-hero?" the other man tossed at him, pushing the bottle in his direction. Harry shook his head, looking at the wet bottle of clear liquid. He knew Tom was teasing, employing an act to get him worked up again, and it wasn't as if he minded all that much. It wasn't as if Tom had any evil designs on him anymore…but then again….

Tom leaned forward against the wooden solidity of the table, taking in Harry's deep gaze, his own gaze musing, contemplative under thick lashes. He seemed almost demure for a wild moment as his gaze fell downward and those amber irises seemed to retreat behind the black of Tom's disinterest. Harry leaned forward and the amber glinted at him, and it was too obvious that his equally dark-haired companion was still looking at him, but from a new angle…

"You're sure you're not thirsty?" he whispered, pouring a glass- the liquid the same colour as his eyes in the firelight. Harry accepted the glass held out to him wordlessly.

A draught, hot and sizzling down his throat and Harry gasped, shutting his eyes.

Tom reached out and removed his glasses. "Open them," he ordered softly, and his white fingers brushed Harry's eyelashes, making him blink. Harry opened his eyes as instructed and Tom was a blur of shape and colour on the other end of the table. He wanted to see him, though. He leaned forward, squinting a little.

Tom stood up and came around the table. "You rarely remove these when I'm around; why is that?"

Harry blinked. He couldn't see Tom's expression, which made it even more unnerving when he saw the blurred shape that was Tom tilt his head to the side. "I-I don't know…" was all he could murmur.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Chosen One," Tom returned quietly, but it seemed to Harry as though his drinking companion's voice entered his head and his words rang sibilantly somewhere near his temple. It didn't help that Tom was kneeling right near him. Harry would only have to tilt his head a little and he would be resting on Tom's chest. _Not_ _a bad idea_, Harry _hoped_ the alcohol said. "Come, share your thoughts. You're so guarded when you know you can trust me; did you not say that you did?"

Harry swallowed, and Tom filled his glass once more. "I-I did."

"Then? Why am I the only one relaxed?" Tom's head bowed and his dark tendrils touched Harry's scar as he leaned down past him to reach his own glass. "If there is something the matter, Chosen; by all means share, for _I_ am fully capable of _rect­-_ifying this."

_He did not just say that in my ear_, Harry rationalised, taking a quick gulp of his drink.

"_Tell me what you want_."

That could not have been more of a turn-on if he had said it in plain English. Harry rather wished he had been previously aware that he had a weakness for Parseltongue…but that really didn't make sense; he'd heard Parseltongue spoken before in all kinds of situations. His best _mate_ had spoken it!

Tom's hand was on the small of his back, which wasn't helping the situation because that hand was warm and when he looked up, trying to see Tom, the figure was only a silhouette in front of the fire, now leaning his head back as he brought the bottle to his lips again.

Harry remembered hissing out a deity's name just then, and Tom was getting up, and he couldn't let him move his hand away.

And it was easier when he pushed his glass aside, ignoring the shatter of crystal as his fingers wound easily into the Dark Lord's hair, pulling him down. He used his lips, capturing Tom's miniature pout as he sucked the other man's bottom lip letting it graze under his upper teeth, tracing it with his tongue before slipping inside. Tom growled as he pressed his own tongue against Harry's, already running his fingertips along the boy's hips, lightly fingering the contour of that bone, feeling the sharp angle of muscle tucked away there.

Harry arched against him, pressing his chest forwards, opening his mouth, devouring Tom's lips- wetly, lustily. He savoured the round edge of Tom's right ear before running his fingers down a jaw line to the collar bone.

Then there was a clamour for each other as Tom reached around to clasp the back of Harry's head and Harry gripped the other man's torso, dipping his tongue against the roof of his lover's mouth. A dance of leaning back and forth as the pressure in his mouth reached a strange point and the groan he heard was Tom's because it reverberated in his own throat and he wished he could somehow be closer to him, touch him more, run his hands over that hot skin.

Fabric tore just a bit in his hurry and Tom's shirt fell away from his shoulders just as Harry's mouth settled in the contour of Tom's throat, pressing his lips there, dragging them down to meet the line between the others man's pectorals. Tom's hands were busy at his t-shirt, tugging until Harry had to pull away as the shirt was yanked roughly over his head. It was almost like a struggle then as Harry attempted to kiss Tom again, but his legs were promptly knocked from under him as Tom hissed out a quick spell.

Harry hit the floor, and the pain in his lower back didn't matter as Tom settled down over him, resting a knee on either side of his waist. Fingers spread over Harry's stomach; he leaned down, running his upper teeth over Harry's bottom lip. The confusing mixture caused Harry to wriggle for more, pulling Tom down by his arms, but the Dark Lord wouldn't yield. He rose a little and reached to the low table for the green bottle. Wordlessly, he tipped the bottle upside down and cold, clear liquid splashed down on Harry's stomach, glittering gold in the firelight as droplets soaked the both of them. He didn't give Harry time to react instinctively as he leaned down and began to devour the droplets with his tongue, tracing heated patterns up and down the boy's stomach, his hot breath dampening the trail of hair leading down into Harry's waistband.

"A-aah," Harry cried weakly as each lapping of Tom's tongue numbed his whole body. "T-Tom-oh God!"

Tom rose up at the sound of his name, coming up to crush their lips together. Harry tasted the burn of alcohol on Tom's tongue and he squirmed under the weight now pressing between his legs. They broke apart breathlessly and their stomachs stuck together a little from the vodka, but it didn't matter because the dark-eyed Lord's hand was snaking its way into the space between Harry's fly openings, and clenching his jaw was all that Harry could do to cry out.

A pair of lips rested on his ear and bit down. It hurt, but a hand wrapped around another place and Harry's hands scrambled at Tom's bare back. He received a low growl of a chuckle as Tom laughed a little before murmuring. "I'm going to eat you alive, Harry."

Harry thought that would be just fine as far as things were going. Tom's grip tightened and loosened, and Harry's knees came up, pressing into the other man's hold, wanting it to tighten again. He felt encouragement of any kind was in order, so letting his hands fall away from Tom's arching back, he fumbled quickly with the buttons on Tom's trousers.

Tom let in a breath that was much like another of his hisses as Harry's fist wrapped around him. And suddenly, gone was the steady, rhythmic caresses Tom sought to torture the boy with, now replaced by harsh, grasping strokes as Tom's back arched further and they met somewhere in the middle as both their hands touched in their ministrations.

Heated, gasping breaths as Tom bit down on Harry's ear again and Harry's fingernails dug into the rug beneath him.

"_H-Harry!" _

Harry knew that this Dark Lord wasn't the stuttering type, nor did he hesitate, but Harry's nerves exploded in what seemed to be an electric roar as the flame in the fireplace blazed suddenly higher. His hand quickened and Tom's arms gave out just at that last minute when he heard the crash.

**0-0-0-0**

Shards glittered about them, and they were drenched in vodka. Tom rested his weight completely on the younger boy, his breath slowing and his rhythmic heart beat pounding against both their chests. He waited awhile, listening to the sound of Harry's sharp gasps softening and their heart beats regulating themselves. He placed a quick kiss on the boy's navel as he sat up and observed the sight before him.

The green bottle had shattered raining down a glittering snow of glass on the rug and the flames licked at the alcohol near the hearth and seemed to want to grab at the boy beneath Tom. Harry was another sight, though, his wide green eyes glittered the same as the emerald glass chips scattered about them, his wet hair spiked into even more disarray from the vodka. He stared off in some kind of awe, and Tom didn't want to replace the boy's glasses just yet.

He was always this vulnerable during moments like this. And, he felt, it was probably better that Harry never see the expression on his face right then.


End file.
